Black Poetry : the art never dies

daroc

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
May 16, 2004
921
38
Inspired by the works,beauty, and excellence of Miya Bailey. Google him..

He draws his dreams into existence
Sketching his hopes
Through tips built on passion and faith
A haunting habit that his soul breathes
Necessary feed, he bleeds,images
How deep
Each sight creates each masterpiece
Collisions and barricades of passion,love&pain
Life without would be meaningless
Love without would be worthless
Value is bestowed in his worth(work):
Greatness.
Blank slates, create outlets of space
Visionary guided by forces,
Natural movements.
With each blink, seconds spent closed canvas,Sketch book:dream land imagined;becomes.
Reality is rested in his ideals.
Bound by lines, colors, shapes, the feel.
Emotions manifested, observations
Of your passion touch many
Influence action
Retrace universal emotion:
Compassion
Desire
&need.
Close to heart, capturing each pump of life
Limited by time,
Yet available
The art never dies.
Production of perfection at war with priorities
And perception of loving art more
Than those tangible.
But: the obsession is within each breath.
And so it is within:
Public viewings, soul etched on all to see
Public feelings
Admired publically
Yet, only needing affirmation and confirmation
Within. mentally.
Always hungry,
Starving artist appetite despite years invested
Misunderstood by the desires of man
Aggression against time
Begging not to be wasted, spent in vain
Lost in the concept of creation.
Conscious controls living. All that is thought, is, and will be.
And he begins without instruction
Guided by movement
Requested by many
Misunderstood by plenty
Placing blame on man
For being only human
Admired, even envied for his craft.
Refreshing, eternal soul starving to be full
Yet exposed
Releasing visions, filling holes
But still left incomplete...
Just breathing...
With each sigh: inhale, exhale- relief.
As he draws his dreams into existence
With each movement comes inspiration
This haunting habit that has his soul
Breathes within him.. The art
Deep sigh: inhale, exhale, -relief.
 
Thank You Sister daroc

The art never dies
As long as blood flows in the veins and the eyes are open
The art never dies
Even after the artist is gone
His / her inspiration carries others into creation.
The art never dies.
 
O, such a wonderful tribute. i knew someone like this...

He draws his dreams into existence
Sketching his hopes on makeshift canvases
Where passions wit
Is his greatest fame
His name
Synonymous with artistry’s game

He graces
Pages
Of infinite ages
Where whispered
Brush-stroked-captured-imagined images
Find their premises
Within the deep crevices
Of an art-filled mind

Misunderstood and maligned
By selfish man
But his fans
Are dedicated for life
Through the toils of his strife
And all the exposed blight
That life has to offer

He draws his dreams into existence
Where listless imaginings
Come to life

He draws
 

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